Epilouge
[The cracks in the room continue to grow, sinking down and down like hot water through frozen snow. The pieces of the floor are becoming more and more unstable, shifting like loose gravel underfoot, and the cracks are
spreading to the walls, and higher, the ceiling beginning to shift—
The lights drift up the tunnel and out, there and not there as the scenery becomes more and more stable. The countries' murals are crumbling, the
gaping maw of the tunnel like a row of jagged teeth, leading out into
the secluded grotto,
shattered pillar in its centre, pools of glowing water
glassy and still reflecting their images as the hurry by, the torches ahead flickering, lighting